


My Muse

by Osulity



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, musician - Freeform, singer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5404535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osulity/pseuds/Osulity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred F. Jones is a renowned musician worldwide. Arthur Kirkland works for a local newspaper in London. After going through a rather scandalous breakup, Alfred decides to leave the country for a little bit and winds up in England. There he runs into Arthur who couldn't care less for Alfred and his fame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Damn." 

Those were the only words Alfred had managed to utter as he looked at the tabloid between his hands. There it was, front cover. His partner mooching off some rich prick. Were they on a yacht? ...That didn't matter, really. He should be more infuriated with the fact that his significant other was cheating in the first place. Not just with some other rich guy.  
  
Alfred F. Jones, nineteen years old and possibly one of the most renowned singers in the country. He wouldn't claim the title for most popular worldwide, but he was definitely recognizable, especially his voice. The nineteen-year-old had managed to find fame when he was just sixteen, landed a spot on a national singing competition and managed to win that season. Ever since then his fame merely kept increasing and he found himself a decent manager who kept his success ongoing without any problem. His manager went by Francis to his friends, but Monsieur Bonnefoy to others. How they met was a long story, but in the long run, Al was glad he had met his manager.  
  
"Damn' is a surprisingly calm answer, Alfred." Francis noted, reclining back into a chair as he stared out the window of Alfred's apartment. You could practically see half of the city, it was one of Al's favorite qualities about his home.   
  
"Well I'm not all too sure what to say, really." the singer admitted as he tossed the tabloid onto the coffee table that lingered in front of the chair Francis was sitting in. The Frenchman picked it up and studied the photo again, along with the 'shocking' questions plastered along with the photo.

Alfred sat in an adjacent chair, burying his face between his hands and sighing, how was he supposed to deal with this? This had been his first relationship he entered since becoming famous and it lasted for a good year and a half. What caused his partner to just throw it all away? He wanted to ask them all these questions, yet knew it wouldn't be wise to do so. At least, that's what Francis told him. This incident certainly made Alfred ponder if his relationship was truly all that important, it wasn't like how it was in the movies. Wasn't he supposed to be infuriated right now? A sobbing mess? The singer hadn't shed a single tear since finding out, he was just... surprised.   
  
"It'd be best if you lay low for a bit, and contacting her is something you should definitely avoid." the Frenchman informed as he stood from his chair and paced the room. Francis appeared to be thinking, as if of what their, more specifically Alfred's, next move should be. Odds are most of the paparazzi and the like were waiting, wondering what else would unfold in such a surprising scandal. If the singer were to make the wrong move, it'd likely damage his reputation if it hadn't already. Alfred already had to shut off the alerts to his social media because it was practically blowing up his phone. Many fans were supportive, others were just questioning him. Some wondered if he even knew; since it had been at least a day and the singer had made no comment thus far.   
  
"What do you suggest I do, act like nothing happened?" Alfred questioned, looking up to his manager as if searching for the answers to this problem.  
  
"No, some might think you were expecting something like this to happen... or you weren't entirely happy in your relationship in the first place." Francis shook his head as his pacing quickened.

The American paused, was he really happy in his relationship? He had thought he was, but upon thinking back to it, he wasn't any happier than he usually was. He didn't really talk that much to his partner and she really only expressed affection in public. Wow. Had he been in that much of a neglective relationship? It certainly could be a possible explanation for his ex-lover's cheating, but that still didn't excuse what happened. Well, that's what he kept being told, that their actions were inexcusable.  
  
"Maybe you should leave for a couple of days, be out of the public eye. It's not uncommon for people to claim they're taking personal time to cope." The manager finally spoke up after a moment of silence, the look the singer gave his manager was enough for Francis to continue. "Certainly not anywhere in the country, no, they'd follow you anywhere here. Say you're seeing friends out of the country. There's still a chance you could be found, but it'd be harder to track you down if we're careful."  
  
"So I'm just supposed to hide, but for how long? How will that fix the problem?" Alfred pondered as he stood from his chair, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His gaze drifted from the tabloid in Francis' hands to his own phone laying silent on the coffee table. He wasn't looking forward to turning it back on. "How will I even explain my leaving? Like you said yourself, saying nothing will make them think I don't care or.. whatever."   
  
The Frenchman sighed, walking over and placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder, "Just say you'll be taking some time off to cope, that you'll be seeing some friends out of the country to get over the ordeal. I'm sure people will understand if you want to avoid the media for a few days, especially since everyone is talking about this right now."   
  
The answer seemed to convince the singer, even if just a little. Some time off actually sounded a bit nice, anyway. It also gave him an excuse to slack off a bit. He hadn't been able to think of anything decent to write a song about in the past week or so anyway, perhaps a visit out of the country would give him some inspiration he desperately needed.

"Alright," Alfred agreed, meeting his manager's gaze, "Where am I going, anyway?"   
  
"England."

* * *

  
' _Sorry, everyone! With everything that's going on, I think it'd be best I take a few days off. I'll be sure to work hard in my time off and be back better than ever!_ '   
  
It was such an optimistic message, if people were picking sides in this breakup, they'd certainly side with Alfred. Whether that was the singer's goal or not was completely unknown. Working for a newspaper company in London, Arthur Kirkland had known about the news as soon as outlets back in the U.S. had informed those back in England. Everyone was practically abuzz about the ordeal, some of his coworkers were even sympathetic towards the male singer. 'That girl is just evil!', 'How could she cheat on Alfred of all people?', those were only a few of the comments he had heard the past couple of days. Personally, Arthur was neutral on the topic as any good reporter should be. He was only out to get the truth and nothing more, thankfully he didn't bother himself with the news on Jones' breakup. You could never really tell what was truth and what wasn't in that ordeal.  
  
The twenty-three-year-old Englishman had been familiar with Alfred practically ever since the first wave of fame hit the American teen. The man's music wasn't bad, not that Arthur listened to it regularly, but hearing it on the radio every now and again wasn't a bother to him. He's certainly heard much worse over the years, so he didn't really complain. Arthur would hate to admit it, but because one of his coworkers practically listened to Alfred's music on a regular basis, he was a bit familiar with a few of the American's songs. He didn't know the lyrics by heart, but he'd be able to name a song or two if it ever started playing.   
  
Now, don't get him wrong, Arthur wasn't a die-hard fan or anything. He barely considered himself a fan at all since he didn't really keep up with Jones' life unless it influenced his job. He only gave credit where it was due, and the American deserved only a tad bit of credit for actually being able to sing. His personality seemed decent, but there were many celebrities who acted nice just for the publicity. For all Arthur knew, Alfred could be a complete jerk underneath that golden-boy persona. Some doubted a person could be that nice while having so much fame.  
  
"Arthur!" a voice called, Arthur had snapped out of his thoughts and noticed he had been staring at his computer screen for some time. He had only managed to write a paragraph for his next article. Oh, right, he was writing about the music industry within the country. Was that how his thoughts had drifted off to that Alfred guy? Odd. Shaking his head, he turned to look at who called him. It was a co-worker, he remembered her name was Jaime, she usually updated the company's website for those who didn't bother to buy the actual paper itself.  
  
"Yes, what is it?" he queried, saving his document in case he hadn't before turning to his coworker.   
  
The woman's desk was actually next to Arthur's so all she had to do was turn in her chair to speak with him. Her legs were crossed as well as her arms. Jaime's desk was a bit disorganized, not by much, but it was more noticeable compared to Arthur's perfectly orderly desk. She had sticky notes plastered all over her screen as well as a half-empty coffee cup sitting on the desk. One could get a feel for the girl's 'quirky' personality based on the fact that her coffee cup had a peculiar design on it. Some joke or other that would be known only to her, seeing as she nearly laughed every time she read the darn thing.

"I asked how your article was coming along, but you really spaced out for a moment there. Are you okay?" Jaime queried, raising a brow. She seemed more surprised than concerned about the fact that Arthur had spaced out.  
  
"Oh," Arthur murmured. His gaze shifted back to his computer screen, his document only contained a meager paragraph. "It's... a work in progress," he admitted, not willing to say that it was going terribly. He had a topic to write about, but not sure what specifically to write. "What about your..." the Englishman gestured to Jaime's computer screen, she was currently working on some post for some media outlet.  
  
Jaime's gaze followed to her screen before she smiled almost coyly, "Oh, that." she quickly put her hand on her computer screen and turned it so Arthur could read what she had written. The Brit had to squint just to read what was typed on the seemingly too small computer screen.   
  
' _Top 10 Things You Need to Know About the Jones Breakup._ '  
  
Arthur couldn't help but let go of a light chuckle,  _really?_ He didn't know there was even a single thing important about the breakup! The post was short, but it needed to be. The only other thing accompanying it was a link to the full article back on the official website, that was also likely written by Jaime or some other co-worker who bothered to care.  
  
Jaime had noticed Arthur's amusement with her post and actually got a bit offended, she turned her screen back and adjusted it to how she had it before. "What's wrong with it? I know social media isn't really your thing, Arthur, but..." her voice trailed off, deciding to leave her comment there. That was just it, Arthur never bothered with social media. He only used what he needed for work and that was about it.   
  
"It just seems a bit silly is all," Arthur answered truthfully while specifically choosing the nicest way to put it. He could've said more, like how it was stupid, useless and how half the people couldn't be bothered to know anything about any breakup. It was rubbish, really. Why did the media have to call so much attention to such things, did a stupid famous guy's love life hold any importance to him at all? No, most certainly not.  
  
Jaime bit her lower lip as she eyed her own screen, "I see..." she murmured.

Yet that was just it, she didn't 'see'. Jaime was merely saying that; he knew she'd still post that link to the article. At the end of the day, it all came down to getting paid. Yes, he deduced that was why anyone bothered. Despite how irritating it was to see how thoroughly newspapers and the media kept tabs on the lives of the wealthy and famous, it was only because they made money off of it. People loved that kind of useless information, to see those they idolized at their best... or worst. 

Everything had been silent for a moment, it wasn't quite a comfortable silence, but neither had bothered to break it for a time. Eventually, Jaime did pipe up after she had finished her post and gathered a few papers she had been jotting notes upon. "I'm about to break for lunch, do you want to tag along?"   
  
Eyeing the paragraph on his computer screen, Arthur figured he could use a break. He wasn't really hungry, but the Englishman knew he'd get nowhere just sitting here. Who knew? Perhaps a little time away from his screen would permit him with new ideas for the article. Or better yet, something better to write about. Call it ambitious, but Arthur had a determination to at least get one decent article out per month and what he was working on wasn't exactly 'decent' quite yet. 

"Alright," Arthur agreed as he closed out of his document and pushed back from his desk. "A little break doesn't sound all too bad, actually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a new multi-chapter fic I plan to work on!
> 
> I don't intend to have my chapters change points of view too often, but only when it's absolutely necessary. Going from Alfred to Arthur halfway through the chapter was just so I could introduce both of them since they don't really meet for a while.
> 
> There may have been a few liberties taken with how the media is portrayed in this fic. Expect it to be cliche, overdramatic, etc. I'm not saying all media is like this, but I have seen articles where a big deal is made over something that really shouldn't be made a big deal out of.
> 
> I should also note there will be a few side-characters. I wouldn't call them an 'OC' since they aren't really fleshed out enough to be a character at all. They're just there to keep the story going.


	2. Chapter 2

The plane ride was downright horrible, honestly. Francis, though wishing to keep where they were going a secret from the public, insisted on using a private plane. How that got past anyone was certainly beyond the young singer. As for the ride itself, he couldn't concentrate on anything. He pleaded for his brother, Matthew, to tag along. Sadly the other declined. Now he had no-one to talk to during the plane ride. Sure, he had Francis, but after so long both of them would mutually agree the conversation would go nowhere unless it was about business. Which neither of them really wanted to talk about given the current circumstances. The American thought of sleeping, seeing as he shouldn't have any trouble doing that on the plane ride, but unfortunately, even sleep as evasive. It was as if nothing seemed to want to go his way lately.   
  
“Any idea how much longer we should be?" he queried, turning to his manager. Deep down Al knew Francis wouldn't know, but he couldn't help but ask. He was tired, bored and a tad bit hungry.    
  
The Frenchman looked up from some book he had been reading. Alfred tried to deduce what book it was, but he couldn't find the title and his manager was too far away for him to see the actual contents of the book. Was it even a book? It looked more like a magazine, but Al never bothered to ask.    
  
“Not much longer, but would you quit asking me? It seems you bother to ask that question every one hundred miles.” Francis replied, he smiled, yet even his eyes gave away how bemused he was. The singer hoped it wasn't because of him, but he wouldn't blame Francis if it was.    
  
“Right. Sorry,” Alfred murmured as he slouched further into his chair. He desperately wanted to get up and do  _something_  other than just sit around and wait until they landed in… England.     
  
That certainly grasped a hold of his attention. Thus far he never questioned the destination of where he'd be hiding for the next week or so, but now that he thought about it, it was an odd spot. Alfred had no reason to really go to England of all places. Sure, he'd done quite a few tours there but he had no friends or family living there. If they were going to choose some place in Europe to hide in, why not France? That was where Francis was from and Alfred actually had mutual acquaintances there, mostly because of Francis.    
  
“Um, tell me, why are we going to England again?” Alfred looked over to his manager who looked back as if the American had gone completely mad. It took Alfred a few moments before he realized he could've worded his question a bit better. “Wait! I mean-” he quickly interjected before Francis could say anything, Al held his hands up as he gestured for the other to wait.   
  
“I know why we're going, but, why did you choose England of all places?” He restated, Francis’ expression softened as he then understood what the singer was trying to get at.

Alfred believed he did raise a good question. If he were to go anywhere, he'd likely choose Canada. That way he'd actually be able to see his brother and be around people who'd likely help him get through his ordeal. Besides Francis, of course. It seemed both his manager and brother always knew what to do. That was why Alfred always sought them for advice, whether it annoyed them or not.    
  
Keeping his gaze locked on the Frenchman, Al waited for an answer. The smile that spread across his lips seemed all too playful and that unnerved the American.

“Well,” Francis started, his tone lightened and a new sense of excitement seemed to emerge inside the manager. It was as if he had something to look forward to. “I have a friend or two in London, I think you might like to meet them.”     
  
“Francis,” Alfred sighed, running a hand through his hair. To Alfred, this had ‘ _bad idea_ ' written all over it. The last thing Al wanted right now was to have more people shoved in his face. Odds are Francis’ intentions were good, but the musician wanted nothing to do with anything business related. “I don't think introducing me to one of your ‘friends’ will be of any use right now. Can't this wait until-”     
  
“No no no, Alfred, this isn't anything to do with work. I promise you that. I have an actual friend that could be worth your while.” The Frenchman reassured, promising that this wasn't business related.     
  
Francis’ words still didn't entirely convince the musician, but enough to shut him up for now. Worth his while? What on earth could that possibly mean? When the American came to his conclusion, which didn't take too long, he decided that it was, like most things, better not to ask.    


* * *

  
“Finally!” Alfred exclaimed, standing up and stretching once the plane had officially landed. He felt like he could jump, kick and just about run a marathon. His eagerness to go out and explore immediately took any feelings of fatigue and boredom out the window. The singer would've likely done just that, too. He was ready to get off the plane before Francis grabbed Alfred by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back. The American stumbled for a moment, surprised by just how much force his manager had used. Turning to look at the other, he was met with the Frenchman holding up a pair of aviators and a black leather jacket.    
  
“I need you to put these on, so no-one will recognize you out in public,” Francis instructed with a smile as he thrust both clothing items in Alfred's direction.    
  
Instinctively, Alfred's hands rushed to his own leather jacket and held it securely to his frame. “You’re insane!” He exclaimed. Alfred had his iconic leather jacket for years, it had been passed down and was the equivalent of a family heirloom. He was hardly seen without the damn thing, much to Francis’ displeasure. Many times the manager had tried to convince Alfred to dress more fashionably, and with which the American complied, so long as he got to wear his jacket as well.    
  
“Either you change into this, or you get swarmed the moment you step off this plane. Your choice.” Francis stated, he wasn't going to allow Alfred another option this time. They couldn't cover up his hair, but that could be easily ignored. They just needed his eyes covered and his jacket gone. One would think it simple if they didn't know how stupidly attached Alfred could be to the old leather jacket.    
  
Alfred paused and looked down at his jacket he so desperately held onto. With an extensive sigh, Alfred slowly shrugged off the leather jacket and was left wearing only the white v-neck upon his torso. He felt lighter, but not in a good way. The American felt as if a mere breeze would chill him to the bone at this point. “Here,” Al murmured, knowing there was a bit more venom to his voice than necessary. Francis didn't deserve this, he was only looking out for him. “Happy?” He added, handing over his jacket in exchange for the black one. He shrugged the items on and adjusted the collar of the jacket for good measure.  

Francis looked at the singer, giving him a once over as if inspecting a work of art. Normally Alfred wasn't so self-conscious, but this made him a bit nervous. Eventually, a big grin spread across his manager's face and Francis rewarded him with a thumbs up. “You look great! Definitely an improvement from that old, dusty jacket.”    
  
“Watch it!” Alfred hissed.   
  
Francis merely laughed as he placed a hand on the singer’s shoulder, “C’mon, let's get off this plane.”   
  
Thankfully, customs and the like wasn't that big of a deal. They were off the plane, through any necessary checks and on their way to the parking lot within the matter of a good twenty-five minutes to a half hour at most. Yet when they got to the car, however, there was a slight problem.  
  
Both men stood in front of their car for what seemed like an eternity. Francis merely smiled, seeming proud of himself while Alfred just... stared.  
  
"It's... awful," Alfred commented, merely taking in the looks of the car.   
  
"It's one of the newest models!" Francis replied, taken aback that Alfred would be so harsh in judging the vehicle.   
  
"It's  _orange_ , Francis!" Alfred exclaimed, gesturing towards the car.  He would have to admit, it was a nice model. Heck, it was even from a company who's cars he enjoyed; but making a car  _orange?_  That was absurd.   
  
Sighing, the Frenchman shook his head and made his way over to the car. Unlocking the trunk and opening it, he tossed his suitcase in the back. "Hurry up, Alfred! I want to show you where we'll be staying."

Alfred had been sure he heard Francis mumble something like 'Bet he'll complain about the apartment too,' but he conveniently ignored that. He considered making this difficult for Francis as a sort of revenge for taking away his jacket.   
  
The American made haste tossing his suitcase into the trunk, it hit the interior with a loud thud and which caused Francis to reprimand the singer. Honestly, at times, it felt like Francis was more of a parent than a manager. Mumbling under his breath and deciding not to pay the Frenchman any mind, Alfred climbed into the passenger seat as Francis took the driver's side.   
  
Before starting the car, Francis looked over to Alfred, "You can take those sunglasses off, you know,"   
  
The American shrugged, "I actually like the glasses. It's the jacket I could do without."  
  
Al wasn't sure if Francis could tell, but through the dark-tinted aviators, he was glaring at his now smirking manager. He would be sure to detest the fact that he wasn't wearing his usual jacket at every chance he got.  
  
Still, Francis didn't seem to care. Rather, he looked amused with the fact that Alfred was displeased with his attire.   
  
"Can we just go?" Alfred whined, leaning back in the seat. "I'm dying to go out and do something."  
  
Francis scoffed, "Do something? And what exactly do you plan to do in London?"   
  
The American paused for only a moment, it wasn't really much of a hard question. "Get something to eat, probably."  
  
It wasn't the answer Francis had been expecting, but this was also Alfred he was dealing with. Should he have truly expected anything else?

The car was started and they were off. Francis took them down busy streets Al hadn't bothered to remember the names of. Of course, this didn't mean Alfred didn't know a thing about London. Oh no, he'd learned quite a bit while on his first tour. His first destination outside of the U.S. was actually in England. Alfred could remember his excitement for being in a different country, besides Canada, for the first time.

Though the American hadn't been able to see most of the must-see sights and tourist destinations, he had been content with what he was shown during his time spent in London. Perhaps now that he would be here for a week or so, he'd have the chance to see things he hadn't previously had the chance to see. Well, at least that was something to look forward to.

His thought process was cut abruptly short when Francis' phone began to go off. It had been such a serene silence within the car that the sudden interruption had practically scared the American out of his own skin. He wouldn't admit that he had clung to the seat a tad bit out of surprise. Nope, not at all.

Francis had waited until they were at a red light before pulling up his phone and checking to see what had caused it to go off. Al couldn't help his own curiosity and attempted to, albeit poorly, sneak a peek at his friend's phone.

"Alfred, please mind my personal space." Francis teased, grinning as he knew exactly what Alfred was attempting to do. The manager shut off his phone and set it aside. 

Damn. Caught in the act. 

" _What?_ " Alfred replied, trying to sound as surprised and innocent as possible while Francis resumed driving once the light turned green. After a moment or two, the musician couldn't help but chuckle. Nah, even that sounded utterly fake. That and Francis knew he'd be lying from the start. He could see through Alfred as if he were transparent.  


* * *

  
The drive continued on in silence for a little while longer, though this time it was more comfortable than the last. The further they had gotten from the commercial area, the further they drove into a more residential-type area.   
  
"I own a house here that I've been renting out while I was staying in America. It's not as fancy as your apartment back in Los Angeles or my place in Paris, but it's nice." the Frenchman admitted as he turned down onto another road.  
  
This left the American a bit baffled, Francis owned more than two houses? He had known about the place in Paris, he had actually stayed there when touring France, but he hadn't known that Francis rented out a home here in England. It really made him wonder what else he didn't know about his manager.  
  
Francis was certainly being humble when describing the home. Merely pulling up into the driveway, Al got this cozy feeling just looking at the place. It was small, but it was certainly pleasing to look at.   
  
"Oh man, it's so cool!" Alfred exclaimed, completely smitten with the place. "Shame this ugly orange car had to deface it by sitting in the driveway, though."   
  
Francis paused, he was pleased with Alfred's initial reaction to the place, but that comment about the car nearly made him want to smack the boy upside the head. Would he ever let that go? "Oui, such a shame," Francis answered dryly, putting the car in park and taking the keys out of the ignition. "Grab your stuff and I'll show you around inside."   
  
Alfred, eager to see the interior, was compliant and quickly got out of the car to grab both his and Francis' suitcases from the back trunk. The American easily supported one in each arm, yet he noticed Francis' was a bit heavier.   
  
"Jeez, what did you pack?" Alfred questioned, adjusting his grip on Francis' suitcase.   
  
The Frenchman chuckled, "That for me to know and you to... well, that's none of  _your_ business."   
  
Francis reclaimed his suitcase and made his way to the front door, making haste to unlock it as the singer's anticipation grew. He had half a mind to delay the American by pretending to be slow with unlocking the door, or even dropping the key. No, he couldn't do that. Even he wanted to get inside pretty soon. With a click, the door unlocked and both men stepped inside. They had set their suitcases down by the door and Francis was quick to shut the door behind them.   
  
The inside was just as pleasant as the outside. It was well decorated and completely orderly, Al had a hunch that Francis had a part in decorating the home himself. Alfred couldn't help but admire every little detail, thus he let out a low whistle. "Nice." was all he managed to say.  
  
"Nice? Try expensive, so don't break anything while you're here!" Francis warned, pointing an accusing finger in Alfred's direction. His tone was dead serious, there was absolutely no teasing. The Frenchman would likely kill Al if he were to ruin anything.  
  
Alfred nodded in understanding, "Gotcha," he smiled. "So, what's next on the agenda?" Rocking lightly on his heels, he was ready to go and do just about anything and everything.   
  
"First I have to make a call, why don't you go unpack? Your bedroom is down the hall to the right." Francis instructed, taking out his phone he had tucked into his pocket before they had gotten out of the car. Alfred groaned a bit at the thought of unpacking, but obliged his manager and grabbed his suitcase, making his way towards the room he'd be staying in.  
  
When he was sure Alfred was gone, Francis took a seat in one of the chairs and began texting one of his various contacts.   
  
' _Guess who's in London? ;)_ '  
  
Having not bothered to check the time before sending the text, it came as a bit of a surprise to get a rather quick answer.  
  
        ' _That's great! Should we all_ _meet up_ _? I'm just about to head out for a break._ '  
  
' _Of course. I'm sure you remember where I'll be staying?_ '   
  
        ' _Yeah! We'll be over soon._ '

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit vague in describing the house because I plan on describing it more when it becomes more relevant.
> 
> This is a bit of a (very) low-key joke, but the reason why I had Alfred react so negatively to the colored car was because of a quote by Henry Ford back in the early 20th century, "Any customer can have a car painted any color that he wants so long as it is black."


	3. Chapter 3

How Jaime had convinced Arthur to tag along to meet some friend of hers was beyond him. They originally planned to stop and get lunch, but with a sudden text message, their entire plan changed.   
  
Naturally, Arthur tried prodding a bit to find some information about this friend of hers, but he didn't find out much. The friend was foreign, apparently, and had been living in the United States for a few years. This friend also had another friend whom Jaime knew next to nothing about, only that this friend was with Jaime’s friend here in London as well. Even Arthur had to think about that for a moment to understand what was said.   
  
“Oh, this is going to be great!” Jaime practically squealed as she pulled up into the driveway of a decent house. Arthur had to take note of the horrendous orange car sitting in the driveway. It looked expensive, but the color was a setback.   
  
“Why did you drag me here again? I could've just gone back to the office if you intended to meet up with some stranger you met through various people,” the Englishman murmured, crossing his arms a bit.   
  
At this, Jaime rolled her eyes, “Oh c’mon, when's the last time you met someone new or made any new friends?” The co-worker pointed out, the point seemed to hit home as Arthur began sputtering in defense though both knew Jaime was right.  
  
Chuckling to herself, Jaime stepped out of the car and Arthur followed suit. The woman seemed to walk with a sense of both excitement and confidence while Arthur was just… perplexed.   
  
Three simple knocks at the door. Simple, excited, and eager guessing by Jaime’s smile. Only a few moments passed before they heard the click of the doorknob.   
  
Answering the door was a tall blonde, he seemed to smile warmly which excited his colleague further, but was rather off putting in Arthur’s opinion.   
  
“Bonjour, Jaime!” The man greeted, one could instantly tell he was French by the thick accent that dripped off every word he uttered. Blast. Arthur knew something was awry the moment he saw him.  
  
“Francis!” Exclaimed Jaime, who smiled brightly as she embraced her friend. Honestly, should Arthur have been surprised Jaime would make these sort of friends? No, not really.   
  
Pulling away from their embrace, Francis shifted his gaze to Arthur as his smile refused to falter. “Ah, you must be Jaime’s friend, yes?”  
  
“I suppose you can consider me a friend, yes,” Arthur replied a bit plainly, not letting off that he wasn't pleased to be here while still being too stubborn to act friendly.  
  
Francis merely chuckled ( _chuckled, mind you!_ ) at Arthur and shook hands with the Englishman.   
  
“Please, do come in,” Francis offered, stepping aside to let the two into his home. “My friend is around the house somewhere. I'm sure he'll come out eventually and make his presence known.”  
  
Arthur was sure he was looking for reasons to be picky now. Upon entering the living room, he noticed how expensive everything looked. White sofas and accompanying chairs, flat screen tv and a decent fireplace just below it. There were even paintings strewn about the walls! Francis definitely lived well-off and that pissed Arthur off.   
  
As for the mentioning of this ‘friend’ of Francis, Jaime was the one to inquiry further. “What's their name?”  
  
Francis shrugged, “We just call him ‘Al’, but I'm sure he'd like to introduce himself to you when he gets the chance.”  
  
Jaime seemed to buy that answer though it seemed as if Francis had reasons for not telling them the name, but what? Perhaps it was just because it was Arthur's job to question everything, but he felt the need to find out more.  
  
Deciding to let it go for now, Arthur and Jaime settled upon the sofa. Jaime and Francis both looked as if they were about to speak until all three heard a dislocated voice coming from down the hallway.  
  
“Hey, Francis!” It called, it's voice slowly getting louder as it approached. “I didn't know you had my guitar sent…”  
  
In walked Alfred F. Jones, looking as if he had just taken a shower and holding an acoustic guitar. His gaze had been fixed upon Francis until he noticed Arthur and Jaime, with that his voice trailed off and the guitar was long forgotten.  
  
Jaime looked positively perplexed, almost as if she couldn't believe who was standing before her. She merely stared in surprise at the singer and, though Arthur would hate to admit it, he did the same.  
  
It was rather hard not to stare, really. Alfred looked much,  _much_  better in person. He had the most brilliant blue eyes that highlighted almost every expression he made, even one of surprise or slight confusion. As for Alfred’s build, well, he had only seen photos of Alfred wearing a jacket, thus, he had been foolishly unaware of the muscle the American had been sporting. The v-neck he was wearing gave perfect view to his strong arms and left little to the imagination about his abs as the shirt clung to the damp American. It actually made the Englishman a bit envious.  
  
“Um, hey!” The American greeted, snapping everyone back to reality as he chose to break the silence. Al flashed a smile at the two which only proved to make Arthur-- er,  _Jaime_ , more flustered.  
  
“Alfred!” Francis exclaimed with a smile, acting as if this were completely normal for him. “I'd like you to meet my friends, Jaime, and Arthur.” The Frenchman spoke as he gestured to both people sitting upon the sofa.   
  
Al gave Francis a questioning glance, yet remained pleasant as he smiled and held out his hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet y'all. Sorry if I look a bit indecent, Francis didn't tell me we'd be having guests.”  
  
Quite the opposite from indecent if Arthur-  _Jaime_  had a say on the matter. The Englishman was surprised she wasn't swooning right now, honestly.  
  
“Oh, it's no problem at all!” Jaime piped up, extending her hand and firmly shaking Alfred's.  
  
It was then Arthur's turn, who tried to make the handshake brief, yet he was caught unaware with how firm the American’s grip seemed to be. He had really strong hands.  
  
Coughing lightly, Arthur finally spoke, “Erm, yes, a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured, not being able to find it in himself to look up at those blue eyes who he was sure we're looking down directly at him.  
  
Surely enough, after a few seconds that felt like years, Alfred moved off to the other side of the room where he occupied an empty seat next to Francis. All the while the Frenchman had a smug look on his face, that absolutely irritated Arthur. He had known, hadn't he? Francis gave no warning whatsoever that his friend was Alfred F. Jones of  _all_  people.  
  
“As for your guitar, Alfred,” Francis spoke as he gestured to the acoustic the American had still been hanging onto. Guessing by the momentarily confused look upon the singer’s face, he had forgotten all about it. “I figured you'd want it sooner or later, so I just took it with us,” the man shrugged, crossing his legs.  
  
The look the American responded with told volumes as if Francis’ answer simply weren't enough. Even Arthur felt as if there was a catch to what the Frenchman said, but could he really catch on to how these two men worked so quickly? Perhaps. He is a journalist, after all.  
  
“ _Of course,_ ” Francis spoke. There was the catch everyone seemed to be waiting for. “You could play us all a little song, especially since I went through all that trouble to get it here.”  
  
Jaime and Arthur exchanged a look, silently yet mutually agreeing that Francis had anticipated Alfred finding the guitar. Their newfound friend was perhaps too scheming for his own good.  
  
It seemed as if Alfred would agree. Upon returning his gaze to the singer, Al looked a bit taken aback and almost shy to actually play a song.  _Shy_  of all things! This didn't mean that Alfred F. Jones was actually humble in regards to his talent, did it? If so, Arthur didn't buy it for one moment. There was no way.  
  
“I.. I don't think I should-”  
  
“Oh, would you please? I just adore your songs.” Jaime admitted, smiling as if her comment didn't make her sound like a complete fangirl. Arthur would hate to admit that even he was curious as to how Alfred sounded without all the editing that likely went into his songs.  
  
Looking pressured, Alfred hesitated before sighing in defeat. “Any suggestions?” The American queried, adjusting his grip on the acoustic as he looked over to Jaime.  
  
Pausing for a moment, she finally settled upon one of Alfred's first songs. Arthur was familiar with the song but had never heard the whole thing through. Just the chorus. From what he knew, it was a perfect song for acoustic.  
  
Alfred smiled lightly, thankful the song was easy enough. He once again positioned his guitar and began playing. His hands swept almost effortlessly as he began playing the first arrange of soft sounding notes. Typical for a love song.  
  
Even if love songs could be cheesy and cliché, Arthur found himself entranced by the soft words that began spilling out of Alfred's mouth accompanied by the soft tune of the guitar.  
  
Slowly as each verse built up to the chorus, so did the tune of the guitar. Each note would become packed more together and louder. Arthur could feel anticipation build up inside him as it drew closer to the chorus, slowly the memory of each word he remembered came flooding back into his mind.   
  
_Perhaps you're here, perhaps you're not  
Perhaps you're real, but my eyes are false  
I thought I stopped looking years ago  
But here you are and despite all these faults  
Why would we want to take anything slow?   
  
Dance with me today, I can’t take that chance  
No, no, I can't keep up this idle stance.  
Even if you're unreal, why not enjoy tonight?  
I'll give it all that I have, with the chance that you just might  
Give me real joy, real as you and I. _  
  
The song, Arthur had long since deduced, was moving in its own way. Every song told a story and you weren't entirely sure what happened at the end of this one. You only knew the eagerness yet uncertainty the singer felt in regards to love. Perhaps that's why everyone liked him? Besides his looks, it seemed as if the American was certainly capable of writing material that was relatable.  
  
The song continued on beautifully for another minute or so until, eventually, the last note escaped both the guitar and Alfred's lips.  
  
Francis patted Alfred on the back as he smiled, “That was great, Alfred.”  
  
Jaime nodded fervently in agreement, “It was! You sound exactly like how you do on the radio,” she complimented, basically saying Alfred didn't sound like he used autotune or anything of the sort. Arthur would've laughed if he hadn't been so caught off by the song.  
  
The American smiled, but he also shrugged. “Thanks, I suppose. Haven't sung that in a while,” he admitted, setting the guitar aside and rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
Arthur wasn't sure if it was just him who could pick this up, but it seemed as if Alfred were a bit uncomfortable talking about the song, or perhaps something in regards to it? Hm. This was peculiar.  
  
“So,” Arthur spoke up, by some otherworldly will, he could not tell. “How are you enjoying London so far?” The Englishman questioned, changing the subject and earning a thankful glance from the American.  
  
“Haven't been able to explore much of it yet,” the American chuckled, “But I hope to change that in the upcoming week or so.”  
  
His demeanor had changed so quickly, all merely because Arthur changed the topic? That seemed easy. Well, either way, from this he got to learn how long Alfred would be staying in London. A week or so, huh?  
  
“I'd imagine,” Arthur scoffed as he crossed his arms. Why did he keep talking? Did he have no control over his mouth this afternoon? “The car out front is a monstrous thing to be seen in.”  
  
The look he received from Alfred and Francis alike were priceless. Alfred looked shocked but overjoyed at the same time. Francis, on the other hand, looked appalled.  
  
“See!” Alfred exclaimed, turning to Francis, “I told you it was horrible!”  
  
Francis merely muttered ‘Damn Englishman’ under his breath as he crossed his arms and leaned back.  
  
“Oh, the car is fine, Francis,” Jaime reassured though her smile told that she was amused with the whole thing.  
  
“Non! If Alfred hates the car so much, he'll just have to hitch a ride with you two if he plans to explore. I refuse to drive around someone who can't appreciate a good car.” The Frenchman huffed though even his smile slowly came into place.  
  
“That's actually a good idea!” Jaime exclaimed, clapping her hands together.  
  
“What?” Alfred questioned, feeling like the joke was going to far.  
  
“We can all go exploring tomorrow.” Francis added, jumping onto the bandwagon that was Jaime's plan.  
  
“ _What?_ ” Arthur now knew the joke went too far.  
  
Both Alfred and Arthur were on one page while Francis and Jaime were on an entirely new one. Who had said anything about actually going on a trip with them tomorrow to explore London? Francis merely smiled a certain smile that just spoke ‘trouble’ and made Arthur want to punch him. If the other two weren't in the room, he just might be compelled to  
  
With a little more ‘persuasion’, which was just Francis and Jaime giving Arthur and Alfred no choice on the matter as they planned tomorrow's trip, it was decided they were going. They even had the gall to force everyone to exchange phone numbers! Now he had the numbers of two people on his phone he couldn't care less about.  
  
Arthur remained silent for the remainder of their short visit. Jaime had realized they had to get back to work and bid everyone goodbye, it was only in the car did she speak to Arthur again.  
  
“Did you enjoy the trip?”  
  
‘ _No_ ,’ Arthur thought though even he had to admit it wasn't entirely bad. Alfred was certainly a character he still had yet to figure out. The Englishman could never be too sure if all that pleasantness was just an act. In fact, that's why he disliked the…  
  
A text message?  
  
‘ _Sorry Francis sort of forced you to tag along tomorrow. I still enjoyed meeting you and Jaime, though! Talk to you tomorrow!_ ’  
  
It was from Alfred and the message seemed all too perky for an apology, yet it was appreciated just the same. Well, at least the singer knew that they had inconvenienced him and had the decency to apologize!   
  
Jaime saw Arthur look down at his phone and, call her crazy, let go of a light smile. Deciding to let him be while he was in such a pleasant mood, she merely shook her head and drove off back to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after enduring a massive snow storm and a bunch of tests, I've finally gotten chapter three done!
> 
> Also, please bare with my cheesy/terrible lyric writing. I swear this will only happen once or twice in the entire story! I also wanted to avoid using the lyrics of an actual song, so I came up with a tad bit of my own. I never claimed to be a good song writer or poet, so my apologies!


	4. Chapter 4

“What have you done?”  
  
That was the question Alfred had been asking his manager ever since Arthur and Jaime had left.  
  
Don't get the American wrong, they seemed like nice people, but inviting them here and making plans for all four of them to meet up in public tomorrow had 'bad idea' all over it. That was just a recipe spelling for disaster. A plea, no, a beg for Alfred to get found out. He couldn't go out in public tomorrow. No way!  
  
Francis seemed nowhere near as concerned as Alfred was, quite the contrary actually, Francis didn't seem concerned at all. While Al was pacing the living room, The Frenchman merely lounged in a chair as he read from a magazine.  
  
“Calm down, Alfred.” Francis smiled as he flipped the page in his magazine. His legs were crossed and he seemed all too amused with the American’s apparent dilemma.  
  
Alfred groaned, throwing his hands in the air in a fit of exasperation. “Calm down? How am I supposed to do that when you invited me out in public with two strangers?” he exclaimed, raising his voice if not by just a little.  
  
Francis sighed, “You're looking more into this than there actually is. And I've known Jaime for a few months now, they're no strangers,” the Frenchman reassured, turning to look at Alfred who had since stopped his pacing.  
  
The American pursed his lips, “What if they tell people that I'm in London?”  
  
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Alfred!” Francis exclaimed, setting the magazine down as he stood from his chair. The Frenchman approached Al and placed his hands upon the musician’s shoulders, “They won't tell, trust me,” he smiled, this seemed to deflate any of Alfred's arguments.  
  
The singer still pouted, but as of now he had no further complaints to bring up. Perhaps Francis was right, he had to give Jaime and Arthur more credit than this.   
  
A moment of silence passed between the two, Francis knew he had won this debate by this point. He usually did, seeing as how dramatic Alfred could be.  
  
“Well,” Francis started, patting Alfred on the shoulder. “Why don't you go get some rest, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow!” the Frenchman exclaimed with an all too large grin.  
  
Needless to say, Alfred stormed off to his room, grumbling unheard obscenities and mentally cursing Francis for setting this whole thing up. Al didn't go to sleep immediately, rather he played, albeit a bit angrily, his guitar for an hour or so before finally retiring for the night.  
  
Alfred was awoken the next morning by Francis, who entered his room and lifted the blinds, practically blinding Al with the fresh stream of morning sunlight.  
  
“Francis!” Al exclaimed, shooting up from the bed and shielding his eyes from the sun. “What the hell?”  
  
“C’mon! I know you want to sleep in but we're heading over to pick them up at noon. I need you to be looking decent by then, understood?” Francis sounded as if he had this all planned out, if Alfred didn't know any better, the Frenchman sounded just like a doting mother.  
  
Alfred grumbled a reply and picked up his phone to check the time. 7:03 am. Great.  
  
Once Francis left the room, the American immediately fell back onto his bed with a sigh. He could've gone back to sleep for an hour without Francis being any the wiser, yet he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Rather, he just stared at the ceiling.  
  
Meeting up with Jaime and Arthur today, huh? They seemed alright when he met them yesterday, but their visit was also extremely brief. How would they all fare with spending an extended amount of time together? Would he learn new things about them? Perhaps.  
  
Well, if that were to happen, Alfred was sure he'd want to leave a good impression. If he didn't, Francis would likely kill him.   
  
Rolling off the bed, Alfred made his way to the closet and looked at the various clothing. A part of him wondered what would be appropriate to wear. Well, what Francis would deem appropriate. If it were up to the American, a t-shirt and jeans would be fine, but his manager would throw a hissy fit. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the thought.  
  
After a bit of debate, Alfred decided on a white button-up and a black pair of jeans to match. It was casual, but still looked good. Upon adorning the two items, Al immediately rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and left the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Francis may have preferred neat and orderly, but Al didn't.   
  
As for his hair, Al did a quick brush-through to get rid of that slight bed-head he was possessing. Yet for that one strand of hair that so stubbornly stood up, the American tried for a good twenty minutes to hide it, but to no avail. Eventually, he had to give up and call it good. Who was really going to notice, anyway?  
  
Grabbing his sneakers and sunglasses, Alfred made his way downstairs and immediately took a detour to the kitchen. The musician set his aviators upon the island and went to work quickly putting on his sneakers, they were a pair of converse and he was sure he had a hoodie somewhere that matched. He'd much prefer wearing that hoodie over the black leather jacket he wore yesterday, anyhow.   
  
“You look like a teenager,” Francis commented, standing in the entry to the kitchen. He would've much preferred something else for Alfred, yet this choice wasn't horrible, either. It certainly spoke volumes of Alfred’s clothing choice, that was for sure.  
  
“I'm still nineteen, just trying to look the part.” Al quipped, standing up straight after getting the second sneaker on. Next on his agenda was breakfast, thus, the American made his way to the fridge in search of something to eat.  
  
Francis sighed as Alfred practically chirped in victory upon finding something suitable to eat. A donut wasn't the healthiest of breakfast foods, but Alfred didn't really care, either.  
  
Al took a bite of the donut and once again occupied himself in making some coffee, Francis entered the kitchen further and settled upon an apple for breakfast. From time to time, even the Frenchman had to wonder how the musician kept in such great shape with such poor eating habits. He supposed how often Al went to the gym had a part in it, yet still Francis couldn't help but wonder.   
  
“Where are we heading today, anyway?” Alfred questioned upon swallowing another bite of his donut. By this point, the pastry was half gone, oh goodness.  
  
The Frenchman shrugged, “Not entirely sure. Maybe we'll tour around London or stop by a shopping center. Heaven knows we’ll need more food for the house,” the manager murmured, eyeing the donut in Alfred’s hand.  
  
The American merely rolled his eyes as he turned to tend to the coffee that had been brewing. He poured himself a cup and added some creamer with sugar. He was guilty of liking everything incredibly sweet.  
  
“I think a shopping center is a good idea, actually,” Alfred murmured, taking a sip of his warm beverage. He was enjoying the warm sensation the cup was giving his fingers. “I think one of the strings on my guitar needs to be replaced, odds are I'll need to pick up some new ones. A new pick wouldn't hurt, either.”  
  
Francis knew they had the money to get it, oh they had enough to buy a new guitar if Alfred wished for one, yet spending too much money in one place would cause some concern. Especially if it were Alfred doing the purchasing. In a music store, of all places.  
  
“I'll pick it up, besides, I'm sure Jaime and Arthur would like to show you around London,” Francis mused, he nearly halted at mentioning Arthur. The Englishman was still someone both Francis and Alfred were trying to figure out.  
  
Alfred hummed, finishing off his pastry and cup of coffee. Once done, he rinsed off the cup and set it in the sink to be washed later. “Sure, sure. Sounds great.”  
  
Looking at the time, it was only around 9:30. Hoping to kill some more time, Alfred went up to the bathroom to brush his teeth. That activity only managed to kill about seven minutes, thus, he was stuck for about two and a half hours.  
  
The American tried busying himself with various things; reading, practicing on his slightly out of tune guitar, and he even dared to check his social media. All his notifications had been piling up since he left the United States and Al wasn't exaggerating when he told Francis there was a lot.  
  
It was a bit heartwarming, many of his fans were still sending him supportive messages, but he still didn't want to think about such things. Would it hurt to post a quick message? Just tell people he's doing alright?  
  
Alfred saw no harm in it, he was even halfway through making the post before his manager snatched his phone from him and deleted the draft. He even went so far as to delete the app!  
  
“Absolutely not!” Francis warned, handing the phone back to the musician.   
  
“What? But I was only-”   
  
Francis raised his hand to stop the musician short, “But nothing, you are not to do anything with social media until you are back in the U.S. Do I make myself clear?” The Frenchman crossed his arms and cast Alfred a warning glance.  
  
Sighing in defeat, Al nodded, “Yep.”  
  
Looking at the time on his phone, it finally read 11:15. Alfred didn't really feel all too accomplished for wasting over an hour doing just about nothing, but at least now he and Francis could finally leave.  
  
Upon adorning his hoodie and having a brief argument with Francis over the aviators, which Francis won and Al was stuck wearing them, both men left to hop in the ugly orange car and go pick up Jaime and Arthur.  
  
The American couldn't help but pay more attention to the surroundings they passed by while driving to meet up with the others. Francis had said they were picking them up from where they worked, Alfred had to admit he was curious as to where exactly they worked. Now he could figure out what they did for a living.  
  
The drive was a quiet twenty minutes. Soon enough Francis pulled up in front of a rather nice building, but upon reading the words that accompanied it, Alfred grew nervous.  
  
‘The London Daily’  
  
As eager as Al originally had been to get here, he was now all too eager to leave. Perhaps Jaime and Arthur worked in one of the accompanying buildings?  
  
Nope.  
  
As soon as Alfred had hoped for that, Jaime and Arthur walked out of the newspaper building. Great. The American couldn't help but sink in his seat with the hope that he wouldn't be seen.  
  
Francis got out to greet them and so did Alfred. While he was absolutely nervous, he didn't wish to appear rude. The American greeted them both with a smile and perhaps was a bit too eager to get back into the car.  
  
Thankfully, Francis obliged him and began escorting everyone back to the car. Alfred gave, well, had to give up the front seat to Jaime while he himself took the back seat with Arthur.  
  
“Oh the car is just as nice on the inside!” Jaime complimented the interior while Alfred sighed quietly and leaned into the back seat, taking off his sunglasses since he felt utterly stupid for wearing them in the backseat of a car.  
  
The musician would be lying if he said he didn't feel trapped. He totally did. Francis neglected to tell him that these two strangers were journalists of all people. He felt a bit betrayed and didn't pass up on the chance to glare daggers at the back of Francis’ head whenever he could. He only stopped his childish display of defiance when he heard a muffled chuckle coming from beside him.  
  
Looking over, he noticed Arthur forcing back his smile and quickly averting his gaze away from him. Did he find his behavior funny? Alfred would've been mad if he hadn't found the gesture a bit cute. Wait… what?  
  
Alfred wanted to say something to Arthur, yet all of a sudden the words seemed trapped within his throat.   
  
He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there wishing to say something, but Francis finally leaving his conversation with Jaime to address Alfred had brought him out of that thought.  
  
“Alfred, wasn't it you that messed with Mr. Goldblume’s trailer?” The Frenchman was asking for validation on something Alfred couldn't quite remember doing, yet probably did do. It wasn't unheard of to hear about Alfred pulling a few pranks when in a studio or perhaps on a set for a show or movie he was making a cameo in.  
  
Still, Francis suddenly bringing this up made him a bit self-conscious. What exactly was his manager telling them? Hopefully nothing embarrassing.   
  
Alfred's only solution to this was to own it, act as if he intended to pull those pranks with good reason. “I think so, why?” Nailed it.  
  
Francis merely chuckled, “Oh, no reason.”  
  
That didn't help Alfred's worries at all. Francis knew what he was doing and he was enjoying it!  
  
This continued for the remainder of the drive, Alfred would keep zoning out only to be brought back to reality with Francis teasing him a with what he was telling Jaime. Every time Jaime laughed made Alfred more self-conscious. What was so funny? The American was absolutely convinced they were laughing at him.  
  
This was absolutely awkward and uncomfortable. This feeling only followed them out of the car for it still lingered as they were walking down the sidewalk. The subject changed slightly, though. Last he checked Jaime was talking about London, possibly trying to relay this information onto Alfred who was only partially paying attention. After awhile he wasn't even paying attention to her at all.   
  
“So, Arthur, Jaime tells me you're writing a paper?” Francis queried, this of all things grasped Alfred's attention and all three looked over to the Englishman who had been just as quiet as Alfred had been.  
  
The question seemed to take Arthur by surprise, but perhaps not by too much. Perhaps he was paying more attention to the conversation than Alfred had been.  
  
“Yes, I am. It's still a work in progress, though,” Arthur admitted with a shrug. He looked as if he shrank a little under the stares of Jaime, Francis, and Alfred combined.  
  
With this, Alfred couldn't help but join in. This change of topic certainly seemed to lift the awkward atmosphere a little, the American wanted to keep it that way. “What's it about?”  
  
“Music,” Arthur replied, looking straight ahead to avoid looking at Alfred. “Popular artists within the country, to be more specific.”  
  
Music was one thing Alfred could talk about endlessly, at least it was a topic he knew he wouldn't be lost in. “Really? I hope I'm on that list,” the musician joked, letting go of a light smile as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.  
  
There it was again, a muffled chuckle that came from the Englishman beside him. Alfred couldn't help but smile a little, deciding he was going to have some fun with this.  
  
“What's so funny? Don't you think I’d be number one on that list?” he mused, hoping the other knew he was merely joking by his tone of voice.  
  
“No, not by a long shot.” Arthur replied, he was certainly trying hard to keep a straight face. A battle he would soon be losing if Alfred had anything to say about it!  
  
Alfred merely chuckled, “What do you think Fran… cis?” Looking beside him, both Francis and Jaime were nowhere to be seen. They had just been there a moment ago, where could they possibly have gone?  
  
Arthur seemed to take notice too before sighing, “Damn frog must've ditched us,” he murmured, not bothering to hold back with the insults in Alfred’s presence.  
  
Both men stood in the middle of the sidewalk, both wondering what their next course of action should be now that both Jaime and Francis were nowhere to be found.  
  
“I'm sure they had to get something,” Alfred suggested, looking around once more as if the two would appear out of thin air. “Hold on.”  
  
Pulling out his phone, Al began texting Francis. He typed a hasty ‘Where are you?!’ before pressing send.  
  
No reply.  
  
With a sigh, Alfred tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Well, we could always head back to the car? We'll be bound to see them sooner or later.”  
  
Arthur had his arms crossed, not entirely impressed with the situation at hand. Yet, seeing as he had no better idea, he agreed to Alfred’s.  
  
The walk back started off as awkward as it had been in the car, neither Alfred or Arthur spoke. They only snuck glances at each other every so often, wondering if the other felt as awkward as they did.  
  
“Does Francis do this sort of thing often?” Arthur finally asked after about five minutes of walking.  
  
“Not really,” Alfred admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does Jaime usually do this sort of thing?”  
  
Arthur shrugged, he couldn't say no, but he couldn't entirely say yes. “Depends,” he murmured.  
  
Another pause.  
  
“Look, I…” Alfred hesitated, looking over to Arthur who met his gaze. “I'm sorry you got mixed up in this. I understand if you aren't exactly having fun.”  
  
At this, Arthur raised a brow, “Oh yes, being lost in London with an American is absolutely exciting.” The Englishman had quite a bit of sarcasm in his tone and, in honesty, Alfred wasn't sure how to respond at first.  
  
The musician merely pouted, “You make it sound as if me being American is a bad thing. At least I apologized for causing you trouble considering it isn't even my fault!” Alfred retaliated, deciding to keep his gaze upon the path before them.  
  
Al couldn't tell if he was really all that angry or not. Even if he was, he couldn't decide whether it was directed towards Arthur or Francis.  
  
The silence that lingered wasn't as long as the one beforehand but was still just as awkward.  
  
“I suppose my comment was a bit uncalled for,” Arthur finally spoke, though he still didn't look at Alfred as he apologized for his comment.  
  
With that, Alfred sighed, “Maybe we should start over?” he suggested, turning his head to look at Arthur. A small smile found its way to Alfred's lips, “So, about that list…”  
  
The Englishman couldn't help but chuckle, though this time he didn't try to hide it. “Give me one good reason why you should be on that list.”  
  
“I can name five, but only because I'm feeling generous!” Al exclaimed, crossing his arms.  
  
Arthur looked as if he were about to speak, but he didn't intend on Alfred being serious on listing five reasons. Oh boy, was Alfred serious.  
  
“For starters, I've been singing since I was six and used to perform off the back of my grandfather’s porch down in Tennessee.” Al talked as if this was something to brag about though many artists had been singing since a young age.  
  
“You're from Tennessee?” Arthur questioned, having not known that about the musician.  
  
“Yep!” Al replied with a grin, “Though, I only lived there ‘till I was thirteen, from then on it’s a bit complicated.”  
  
This seemed to intrigue Arthur for no longer was he stealing glances at the American, he was actually looking at him now. “How so?”  
  
It was then the musician shrugged, “Like I said, it's complicated. Perhaps that's a story for another time.” Arthur seemed to accept that answer for Alfred seemed unwilling to tell him at present.  
  
Now they were almost back to the car and Alfred sighed though it sounded more content than anything. “What about you? Are you from London?”  
  
Arthur scoffed, “Heavens no! I'm originally from the countryside, but you probably wouldn't know where even if I told you.”  
  
Call it childish, but Alfred stuck out his tongue in retaliation. “How rude! I bet you wouldn't be able to find some American states on a map, either!”  
  
“Is that a challenge?” Arthur queried, raising a brow.  
  
The American paused before smiling, “Only if you want it to be.”  
  
This simple and fairly innocent teasing continued until they had actually reached the car. Upon catching sight of the orange vehicle, Alfred felt both joy and disgust.  
  
“Still looks hideous,” Al murmured, approaching the car.  
  
“Agreed.” Murmured Arthur, who found it just as repulsive.  
  
Not long after, Francis and Jaime approached the car. Both were sporting looks as if they were proud about the fact that they ditched the other two. With a few complaints from Alfred and Arthur alike, Francis ushered everyone into the car and handed Alfred a bag to shut him up.  
  
“Your guitar strings and pick. You're welcome.” Francis smiled before starting the car.  
  
Both Alfred and Arthur exchanged a glance as they both sat in the back seat. It was mutually decided that this trip wasn't so bad, after all. When they reached the tall building to drop Jaime and Arthur off, Al was quick to stop Arthur from getting out of the car.  
  
“I'm serious about listing those other four reasons, y’know.” Alfred couldn't help but smile, knowing he was going to ask to meet up again. He rather enjoyed the company, if he was going to be honest. “We’ll have to meet up again sometime, so I can convince you to put me on that list.”  
  
Arthur paused, Alfred even noticed a slight reddish hue that appeared on the Englishman’s cheeks at Alfred's offer. After a moment, Arthur formulated a reply. “I'm sure you're already on the list, but if you're so adamant, I suppose we will have to meet up sometime.”  
  
With that, Arthur exited the car and entered the building with Jaime. The look Francis cast Alfred in the car was enough to tell that he knew what happened. Despite it all, this didn't end as poorly as the American thought it would.


End file.
